


Finding Home

by Minuialeth75



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, First Kiss, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Not underage (Stiles is 18), POV Alternating, Scent Marking, Scenting, canon violence, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuialeth75/pseuds/Minuialeth75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know normal wolves never abandon an injured member of the pack. They care for it, […] they even give it physical and emotional comfort by intensely grooming it. In a way, they can do more than just ease pain. They can be instrumental in healing their own." 03x11 "Alpha Pact"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

> Set some time after 3A.

This was ridiculous. How many abandoned warehouses were there in Beacon Hills?! In how many of them was he going to have the dubious pleasure of avoiding being injured or killed?

Stiles peered from behind the huge crate that was hiding him. The coast looked clear but he knew better. They were all trapped in there, and he had the disadvantage of not having supernatural senses to help him know where the hunters were hiding. All he knew was that he had ended up on one side of the warehouse whereas Scott, Derek and Isaac where on the opposite side. Of course. The only way out was blocked by the hunters who fired a barrage of bullets each time they saw something moving. Stiles was willing to bet the bullets were laced with wolfsbane. 

Those hunters had visibly not been informed of the new code. Well, they probably knew about it but since they had been working for Kate Nutjob Argent, it was safe to say that they weren't going to abide by it. 

They had arrived in town a couple of weeks ago. They hadn't tried to get in contact with Allison, whom they doubtless saw as someone betraying their own twisted code – which probably was Kill All Werewolves On Sight. Instead, they had started by killing animals in the forest, making it look like they had been killed by werewolves, leaving the remains where they would be easily found. This has first led to several very uncomfortable days with his dad asking him if he was _sure_ that everyone 'special' he knew was completely in control.

Then things had gotten really ugly when the body of a jogger had turned up, throat torn apart, right after the full moon. Stiles had known first hand thanks to his dad. He had gone directly to Derek's, to bring him to the place where the body had been. Derek had looked surprised when Stiles had explained his plan.  
"It could be me," he had said.  
"Don't be ridiculous. I know it can't be you. You're not a killer, you're not like that."  
Derek had thrown him a _look_ that he had chosen to immediately forget. There was no way it could have been the kind of look he wanted to be. This way laid madness. "And if it was Isaac, Aiden or Ethan, you or Scott would know." It was left unsaid that Scott being the culprit was unthinkable.  
"Why are you bringing _me_ to the scene?"  
"You're a born werewolf. I figure that you have the most efficient nose."

It turned out that it wasn't a werewolf at all. Derek had smelt several _humans_ on the scene. Four different smells.  
Stiles' dad had opened an inquiry for murder, instead of giving the usual animal attack explanation.

The hunters had probably thought that Chris Argent would start to suspect the local werewolves and act accordingly so they were a bit pissed off when nothing happened. They visited the Argents. From what Allison told them, they had waited for Derek to be back in Beacon Hills, thinking Peter was with him, to avenge Kate's death. She said she had never seen her father so livid. He had told the rogue hunters what could happen to them if they didn't leave town immediately. It had only driven the hunters further mad, saying he had sided with the Enemy and that now he was no longer a hunter in their eyes.

Then things had taken an even more interesting turn. Stiles had arrived a little early at a pack meeting that was supposed to be held at Derek's, only to find the werewolf about to leave with a grim look on his face.  
Stiles' had developed a sixth sense where Derek was concerned over the years and he had _known_ that something was terribly amiss, if only because 'oh shit' had been written all over Derek's face when he had opened the door. A brief battle of wills had followed.  
Derek had finally told Stiles he had just received a phone call from the rogue hunters. They had Chris Argent and his daughter and they were going to kill them if he didn't go to the address they had given him. Which, wow. The notion that Derek had been about to go alone into a trap to try to save the Argents had slammed into Stiles' mind and driven him up the wall because really, Derek, wasn't it obvious that they were going to kill you on sight and the Argents as well and are you out of your fucking mind?!  
Stiles had been mad with anger and it had been like looking at himself from outside. His outburst – which had left Derek speechless – had taken long enough for Scott and Isaac to arrive. Scott had looked hurt when he had understood that Derek would have gone alone, especially as Peter should have been the one to sacrifice himself, to be fair. But of course Peter had disappeared when Derek had left Beacon Hills and apparently the hunters weren't too picky on the Hale they wanted to kill.  
So it was decided that they would all go. Well, 'all'. Stiles had to battle again to be included. His winning argument had been that as a human, he was immune to the flash grenades and any wolfsbane laced stuff. Ethan and Aiden... weren't Pack anyway. They would have to chose what they wanted to do very soon because Scott's patience was wearing a bit thin where they were concerned.

It had turned out that the hunters were big fat liars. They didn't have Chris or Allison as hostages. But they had a thirst for killing anything that moved, guns, and lots of ammunition.

___________________________________

Neither of them had tried to move for a moment so the warehouse was eerily silent. Stiles' phone buzzed. It was a good thing that the bad guys were humans and not werewolves with supernatural hearing otherwise he'd be dead. Well, if he was a werewolf he wouldn't need his phone to communicate with the others, but still... Small blessings.  
The text was from Derek. **Wait for my signal and run to the exit as fast as you can.**  
 **What signal?** Stiles texted back.  
 **You'll know.**  
That wasn't worrying at all.

He had barely put his phone back in his pocket when all hell broke loose. Meaning that the shooting started again. Stiles had a sinking feeling just before glancing around the crate.

Apparently Derek's idea of a diversion was to play target. Scott and Isaac must have thought it was a _fantastic_ plan because they also came out of their hiding places. Stiles realized they were all directing the line of fire away from him, to give him a better chance to escape unscathed. Sometimes, he still thought that they let him tag along to humor him but right now, they were all risking their lives for him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he prepared to launch in the fray.

Stiles had become awfully good at running very fast over the years, since he didn't have claws or a gun. For some reason, his dad had looked horrified the first and only time Stiles had asked if he could teach him how to use a gun if he had one. He really didn't see what was so terrifying.  
It seemed to him that the gunshots were more spaced out this time, like maybe the hunters were starting to get low on ammunition.

He bolted from behind the crate at full speed, trying very hard not to look at how his friends were faring. If he did that, he'd lose some of the precious time they were paying dearly to give him.  
But there was a snarl, and Stiles would have recognized that snarl anywhere. It was Derek's. So he looked. His feet took him in a direction opposite the exit without his brain issuing the order to do so. He _knew_. Derek was growling at a freshly disarmed hunter but there was another one who was training his weapon on him. Stiles _knew_ from the angle of his arm that he was aiming for the heart and that Derek wasn't going to heal from this, especially not with a wolfsbane bullet. He _knew_ he was the only one in a position to help, because he was now going into the hunter's line of fire. Once, it seemed like a long time ago, he would have questioned that kind of knowledge, probably dismissed it. He had learned the hard way to trust his instincts.  
He didn't hear _the_ gunshot among the deafening noise of the others but he certainly felt the excruciating pain of it. Then all went black

____________________________________

Isaac saw Stiles' body jerking and the blood spurting from somewhere on his back. It took him a moment to understand what had just happened, long enough for Stiles to fall flat on the floor, his eyes closed. It took him even longer to realize that Stiles wasn't likely to get back on his feet and run away any time soon because he was _human_. Just human. Stiles was such an integral part of the pack that it was easy to forget he wasn't a werewolf.

He could only stare in horror, the noise around him reduced to the frantic beating of his heart and his ragged breathing. A howl broke it, and Isaac violently shivered in spite of himself. That was a kind of howl he had never heard before, and he immediately wished to never hear it again. It was full of anguish and sorrow. He'd have more expected a roar of fury coming from Derek. But instead of jumping on the hunter who had fired and tear him to pieces, he just fell on his knees beside Stiles' body, frantically running his still clawed hands all over it.

Time had seemed to slow down but Isaac knew it had only been a blink of an eye. He knew he wouldn't be able to reach the hunter before he fired on Derek at almost point blank. From the corner of his eye, he saw Scott propelling himself forward, trying, even if he was even farther than him.  
An arrow embedded itself in the hunter's arm, making him drop his gun. Isaac turned but he already knew who he was going to see: Allison, jaw squared, already firing another arrow at the hunter, shooting him in the knee. Her father was with her, two guns in his hands, firing away at the hunters, being careful to injure but not kill. He'd have in the past, but Isaac figured that the Sheriff would need the murder suspects alive.

Derek hadn't even looked around during the Argents' rescue. His attention was entirely focused on Stiles. The young man's head was in Derek's lap and it was obvious from the dark veins on Derek's arms that he was leeching his pain out.  
Now that the danger had passed, he and Scott had shifted back but not Derek. Argent tried to get closer but he got snarled at, and the clawed hand Derek tried to sweep at his leg wasn't for show. Argent barely had the time to jump back, the grip on his guns tightening.  
This wasn't good.

___________________________________

Scott felt dread in the pit of his stomach. He had never thought he'd see Derek like this one day: almost feral. Argent was way too close to him and wielding guns. Not a good thing. He didn't know what was happening with Derek but the werewolf needed to get a grip if he didn't want to die.  
He registered Allison calling the Sheriff after having called for ambulances, giving the man a summary of what had just transpired, as well as their location. She didn't say anything about Stiles. The plan was to get Stiles in the first ambulance that arrived and have him evacuated to the hospital before his father could see him in a pool of blood. It had taken them both a very short time and few words to come up with that plan.  
Scott resolutely strolled towards Derek, drawing on his Alpha power. He rarely did it and it still felt both strange and exhilarating.  
"Derek, no one is going to hurt Stiles. Just relax." He had tried to put a bit of the Alpha behind his voice.  
Derek just held tighter on Stiles, who was till unconscious. Scott tried to not let the worry eat at him.

Then Chris Argent tried to get closer again and this time Derek roared and lunged and would have got to Argent if he hadn't been impeded by Stiles' weight.  
Scott gave a roar of his own, putting all his Alpha power behind it, hoping to break Derek from whatever trance he was in. He saw Isaac flinching in the corner of his eye, feeling the power even if it wasn't directed at him. Derek, though? He roared back at him. Of course.  
He wasn't Derek's Alpha, and if he ever had needed proof, this was it. Still, as a Beta, Derek should have at least been calmed down. Whatever was happening to him, it was stronger than the anger of an Alpha. 

Derek abruptly stood up with Stiles in his arms. He was still wolfed out. Chris Argent tightened his grip on his guns. Derek didn't seem to register him this time, as he started to make for the exit.  
Scott went after him, knowing better than to try to bodily stop him.

"Derek, where are you going? An ambulance is going to come for Stiles!"  
"Too slow," Derek just answered. At least, he wasn't gone far enough that he had lost human speech.  
"What do you mean?"  
Derek didn't see fit to answer, but his plan became clear when Scott realised they were nearing Derek's car.  
"You want to drive Stiles to the hospital?!"  
"Faster that way."  
Scott stopped dead in his tracks, right behind Derek who was apparently trying to find a way to open his car door with Stiles in his arms.  
"You will _not_ drive in your state, Derek. I.won't.allow.it."  
He didn't have to push the Alpha power through this time. It flared all on its own, making his fangs pop out and his eyes glow red.  
Derek turned and growled. Scott just displayed his claws. He hoped Derek would have the sense to see that he couldn't fight him with Stiles in the way.  
"If you drive alone and something happens to Stiles, you'll have to stop and lose more time.  
I'll drive the car, you stay with Stiles in the back."  
Derek considered him, and nodded. Scott wasted no time opening the car door for Derek, and the driver side for himself.

"Isaac!" he called.  
Derek, who was already busy trying to arrange Stiles in the back of the car as best as he could, with his head in his lap, threw him a dirty look.  
"I can't leave him here. None of us can be seen here. Argent and Stiles' father will handle this." Somehow he knew that Allison would disappear from the place in time.

Isaac came trotting towards the car a few moments after, understanding dawning on his face when he saw Scott at the car's wheel. He immediately installed himself in the passenger seat and Scott took off at breakneck speed. 

____________________________

Scott glanced as often as he could in the rear-view mirror without risking a crash.  
Derek's behavior was beyond odd, even for Derek. Firstly, he still hadn't shifted back. He was always in control so it was worrying to see that he apparently couldn't change back to human. Scott wasn't even really sure that Derek was aware that he was still in werewolf form.  
And then, he was… he kept _petting_ Stiles. There was no other word. He was caressing Stiles' hair, his face and also his arms in an unending, almost hypnotic pattern, his gestures soft despite his claws. He was also… he was emitting low whines. Scott could feel that the sounds were distressing his wolf in spite of himself. A sideways glance at Isaac showed the same reaction.  
Scott had no idea what this behavior meant. Was it a born werewolf thing?

All he knew was that it was going to be a freaking big problem once they got to the hospital. They were going to carry Stiles out of the car but Derek was going to have to stay behind since he was still all wolfed out. He didn't see that going well at all. Unless…  
"Isaac? Could you call Deaton and put the phone on speaker?"  
There was no way he was driving one handed at the crazy speed he was going. 

Deaton picked up after two rings. "Yes, Isaac?"  
"No, it's Scott actually. I need your help."  
"How?"  
"Do you still have that tranquilizer gun with the big doses?"  
"Yes."  
"Great. Do you think it could work on a werewolf?"  
"I'm afraid to ask."  
"I don't have time to explain. Could you bring it at the hospital ASAP? I think we're gonna need it." 

___________________________________ 

Stiles gingerly opened his eyes. He'd rather avoid the searing pain he had felt when he had awoken the first time. That and the fright of having Deaton's face hovering above him. He absolutely hadn't squealed. At all. 

The lights were dimmed, and all he could see through the window was pitch blackness and his own reflection. He had slept through the afternoon, which meant he was still dosed up on the strong stuff. He was very okay with that because when the drugs started wearing off a bit, his left shoulder hurt like a bitch.  
He reached for his phone and... shit. No phone on the side table. Mrs McCall. She had told him that he needed to rest when she had caught him doing research on his phone this morning. He had promised to lay off on the phone use but apparently she hadn't believed him. And he totally didn't prove her point by reaching for his phone first thing after his nap. Nope.  
Ah well, he was going to watch crappy TV instead. He used the remote to lift the head of his bed up and... he screamed like a girl.  
Derek Hale was sitting in the far corner of his room, arms crossed on his chest, unblinking. Looking like the creeperest creeper to ever creep.

"Are you fucking crazy man?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"  
"I think I should be the one to ask you if you have lost your mind." Derek's voice was strangely calm. It made Stiles a bit uneasy.  
"What?"  
"What were you thinking putting yourself between me and a _bullet_?! You could have died, Stiles. I'm a werewolf, I'd have healed! How could you be so stupid?!" Derek was the opposite of calm now and Stiles regretted the eerily serene version immediately. Derek's violent reaction was so out of left field he was left to gape like a fish for a moment. Then righteous anger swept over him. Derek had never called him 'stupid', and it hurt. His reaction was to lash out. 

"You’re such an ungrateful ass. You would be dead if it wasn’t for me and that’s how you thank me?!"  
"I.wouldn't.have.died. How do I have to say it?"  
The way Derek's jaw worked suggested that he was literally gritting his teeth in frustration.  
Well, he wasn't the only one frustrated by this conversation. 

"Deaton told me you would have died if the bullet had gone anywhere near your heart. It was a wolfsbane bullet. The hunter was aiming for your heart. You would have died. I _had_ to do something!" 

Derek barely restrained a grimace at Deaton's name. Which was understandable because the man was worse than Obi-Wan with his cryptic comments. He had been a bit more forthcoming with Stiles when he had talked to him, though. It had almost been creepy. Stiles still hadn't excluded alien possession. 

"You can’t know that he was aiming for my heart," Derek said in a definitive tone.  
He then raised his eyebrows. Stiles knew it was because his heartbeat had significantly picked up, more so than Derek's comment warranted. He was at crossroads and, as cliché as it sounded, a big part of his future depended on the choice he was going to make right now. Stay silent or speak of what he knew. He took a long look at Derek, the kind of look he never let himself take at the man. He realized his decision had been made a while ago, even before knowing what Deaton had told him. 

"He _was_ aiming for your heart," Stiles begun in a calm voice he hardly recognized. "And I know, and I knew then, because apparently, from what Deaton said, I’m your Mate." 

The way Derek completely froze and then looked like a deer in the headlights dispelled what small lingering doubt Stiles might have had about what the werewolf knew. Because Derek was the stupid one. 

"How long have _you_ known?" His tone may have been a bit cold, but he was beyond done with Derek right now. 

Derek had the decency not to ask what Stiles meant. 

"I… I suspected. But there was no one I could ask for a confirmation." Because Deaton wasn't an option in Derek's mind. And all the people who could have known were either AWOL – and he just hoped Derek wouldn't have asked Peter – or dead. "I wasn't sure until my… extreme reaction to you being shot." 

"Were you planning on telling me? Ever?" Because he was a sucker for punishment. 

"I’m not… you’re young, you deserve someone who’s not… who doesn't have my kind of baggage. I wouldn't have told you, because the people close to me, they don't… it's not safe to be close to me." 

"Have you thought about me? You’re my Mate, too." 

"I know it doesn’t work like that, not with a human. You are my Mate but I’m not yours. You’re not bond to me in any way." 

"That's not what Deaton told me. The fact that I somehow _knew_ that you were going to die means that the Mate thing also works for me. Apparently it’s rare for a human to also feel the link, but it can happen. Deaton was almost beside himself with awe. Well, as much as Deaton can be seen expressing any strong emotion." 

Derek looked a bit shaken. Stiles had been shocked too. He had asked Deaton if what he had been feeling for Derek lately – and hadn't it been embarrassing to admit to that to a third party– was because of the Mate thing. Deaton had answered that it was the reason why it was so rare for a human to feel and experience the Mate bond with a werewolf: deep feelings for the werewolf had to exist _beforehand_ , and it wasn't that common. That had reassured Stiles about the reality of his feelings and his consent about all this. 

"Is that why you keep saving me?" Stiles would have been gleeful to hear Derek finally admitting all the ass-saving he had done out loud, if the direction Derek's mind was taking hadn't been obvious. "Is that because of the Mate link?" 

_No buddy, you're not even going there._

"Nope. I asked Deaton and the link only became _effective_ when that asshole of a hunter decided to kill you. Apparently it slowly built over time." 

Derek nodded, a bit overwhelmed. Stiles had had two days of mulling over Deaton's information alone in his room, so he wasn't surprised by his reaction.  
He had also asked Deaton about the werewolf side of things. Did Derek keep watching out for him, looking at him _that_ way because of some biological imperative since Stiles was his Mate? It turned out that for werewolves, it was a complex interweaving of the wolf's instincts and the human's feelings. You couldn't separate the biology from the feelings and a Mate couldn't exist without the two. So yeah, it seemed that Derek felt something for him too. 

"Why…," he began. Derek looked up from the fascinating view of his denim clad knees. "Why are you sitting in the farthest corner of the room, like you don't want to be here?" 

It had hurt, especially after the conversation with Deaton – not to mention that he was here because he had saved his ass – that Derek was the only one who had yet to visit him at the hospital. He had had this almost overwhelming need to see Derek. Everyone had told him that, bar from Deaton having to shoot him full of tranquilizer, Derek had come out of the fight unscathed. But Stiles had needed to see for himself. 

"I hoped that by the time you awoke, I'd be gone." Derek’s tone was flat. 

Stiles showed Derek that he wasn’t the only one fluent in eyebrow scolding. 

"Way to make a guy feel special, Derek." He had tried for a light tone but the way his voice died a little at the end ruined the effect. 

Derek looked down briefly and when he looked at him again, his face had mellowed a bit. 

"Now that my wolf has recognized you as its mate, now that _I_ know, it’s more difficult not to be close to you, especially as you are injured." 

"Then why didn’t you want me to see you here? Why are you sitting so far away?" Then it hit Stiles. "Oh, that was part of your little martyr plan of not letting yourself _try_ with your mate? Let me tell you that that plan sucks. For everyone involved." 

Stiles knew he wasn’t being nice, even if his tone had been soft. He just didn’t know of any other way to make Derek _see_ that they could have something good if he only let himself try. He knew Derek’s past, he knew it wouldn’t be a bed of roses all the time but he also knew it would be worth it. It would be so worth it. 

He extended his right hand towards Derek. This was going to be a bit… but he _needed_. "I need to touch you, please?" 

Derek just looked at him, a bit dumbstruck. And also a bit… suspicious. 

"I mean it, I really _need_ to touch you. To feel you're alive. That’s a werewolfy thing, isn’t it?" 

Understanding dawned on Derek’s face. Maybe because he was feeling the need too? 

"Deaton explained a bit about werewolves mates, that they could share strength, memories, feelings… He told me that of course it can’t be the same for a human, but I think that the link is apparently strong enough for me to act a little differently, to emulate some werewolf behavior? Not that I told him about the weird stuff I was feeling. He looked too gleeful about me being your mate for my comfort." 

Derek jerked a bit in his seat, as if his body wanted to do something his mind hadn’t fully got on board with yet. Stiles’ heart sped up with ridiculous hope, and of course Derek heard it because he stared at him for a bit. Then he stood and Stiles lost all control on his heartbeat. 

Stiles had thought that Derek was going to drag his chair to sit by his bed but he simply installed himself _on_ his bed, sitting by his hip, on his uninjured side. He put his hand on Stiles’ left one. Stiles was about to remind him that it was a _bad_ idea when the pain that had been dully throbbing for a while in his shoulder started to recede before disappearing completely. Oh. Derek must have felt he was in pain. 

"Thanks," he managed to croak.  
This was affecting him a lot more than previously. Stiles was used to Derek leeching his pain away since he seemed to be an injury magnet. Lately, Derek always insisted to be the one to perform the useful werewolf trick on him and… woah. Suddenly it made sense. Derek hadn’t been keen on letting any other werewolf be _that_ close to him. In retrospect, it had always felt weird for him when it wasn’t Derek, even when it was his best buddy Scott. 

Then Derek took his right hand in his. Soon, the loose hold became a light caress on his bare arm, and Derek leaned down to nuzzle his neck. He was so glad he was no longer hooked to a heart monitor because he was sure the intensive care team would have come running.  
Derek straightened up, his nose scrunched up. It shouldn’t have looked so adorable. 

"I smell like hospital, do I?" He had gotten used to the smell himself but the first day had been horrible. That smell always brought back bad memories. Since he wasn’t a werewolf, he could only imagine the stench it must be for Derek. 

Derek nodded. "You don’t smell like you." 

Jesus, he didn’t think someone had ever told him something sexier. 

"I hate that hospital smell. Replace it, please." He looked into Derek’s eyes, trying to convey that he knew what he was asking for. Derek stared back, a bit unsure. 

"I want your scent on me," Stiles clarified, in a voice so low he wasn’t sure it actually belonged to him. 

There was a low growl and Stiles realized it came from Derek only because his eyes had turned blue. It wasn’t menacing. He had never heard that kind of growl from Derek before. It made a part of him he thought was completely dead because of the meds, take notice. 

Derek put both his hands on Stiles' and then started deliberately mapping Stiles' forearms with broad strokes of his palms. He took his time, not going up the biceps immediately but covering every inch of skin, tracing the veins with his fingers as he went. It was as much as about caressing as scent-marking.  
Then Derek's hands traced his biceps, going as far up as under his hospital gown sleeve on his right arm, the tips of Derek's fingers touching his collarbone and god, he hadn't known collarbones were _so_ sensitive. He wasn't sure Derek really needed to scent-mark that part of his body but he wasn't about to protest or question.  
Suddenly he felt Derek's touch in his hair and he realized he had closed his eyes at some point. He opened them on reflex. Derek was all but bending over him, his face a picture of concentration. He might have doubted that Derek was as affected by the contact as he was if Derek's eyes hadn't still been preternaturally blue.  
After conscientiously combing his fingers through Stiles' hair, Derek rubbed his fingertips all over his scalp. Which would have been like a relaxing massage if it hadn't been so arousing. Stiles realized that Derek most probably could smell that he was very, very happy with what he was doing but he figured that Derek would have stopped if it made him uneasy. 

One of Derek's hands slid down Stiles' nape and Stiles just… tilted back his head. There was a sharp intake of breath from Derek. Because yeah, Stiles had just bared his neck to him, which he hadn't realized he was going to do a moment before. Apparently Derek wasn't the only one driven by instinct.  
It could have been odd or even a little scary if it had felt alien. But Derek wasn't a stranger he suddenly felt attracted to. He'd known him for years, been into him since the beginning. He trusted him. Now he just had that extra thing with him and it was fantastic. 

Derek's fingers were now gently tracing his forehead, his temples, his eyes, which he closed, his cheekbones, his jaw… and Stiles turned his head into Derek's palm and his lips landed on the fleshy base of his thumb. Eyes still closed, and maybe emboldened by that, Stiles nuzzled Derek's palm, scenting it. Derek _whined_ and the sound went straight to Stiles' groin, his small problem becoming a big problem in an instant. He wasn't wearing any underwear that could have… contained things, so he was pretty sure he was tenting his sheets. And they hadn't even kissed. Jesus, the thought of Derek _kissing_ him… 

Derek left his hand on Stiles' cheek but stopped the scent-marking his face, bending down to run his nose along Stiles' neck.  
"Not enough," he grumbled, and Stiles barely had the time to wonder if he meant that he still smelled like hospital – because all _he_ could smell now was _Derek_ – before Derek proceeded to rub his _face_ all over Stiles' neck and… oh. That was vastly different from the hands scent-marking. More intimate because Derek's face was so close. Hell, it was buried in Stiles' neck. Also, he was probably going to have a bad case of beard burn. And a bigger case of mortification if he came from this, and from the state of things, it was quickly becoming a possibility.  
Derek rubbed his cheek on Stiles' and so Stiles was sandwiched between Derek's face and his big hand and it was heaven and god help him, he started rubbing his cheek on Derek's too, nuzzling his beard. He could do that all night. 

Derek moved, the drag of his beard on Stile's cheek a delicious sensation. It took a moment for Stiles to realize the direction he was taking, just before Derek's lips landed on his own. There was a soft press and it ended all too soon. Stiles opened his eyes and he saw that Derek's were back to their human color.  
Stiles raised his right hand, briefly regretting that he couldn't use both of them. He slowly, gently reproduced what Derek had done, scent-marking his face and his hair, ending by putting his hand on Derek's nape and pulling towards him. It was more an open mouthed caress than a kiss, like they were scent-marking each other with their lips. 

"Stay?" Stiles whispered. He couldn't imagine being physically separated from Derek right now. 

Derek's face lit up before frowning. "I don't know if…"  
"Scott's mother is always the first nurse to enter my room in the morning," Stiles quickly cut.  
"Okay," Derek just said. He got up and started towards the vacated seat in the corner of the room.  
"What are you doing?" Derek turned, looking a bit sheepish of all things. "You're not spending the night in that chair." Stiles undid the covers on his right side, trying to scoot over as best as he could.  
"Are you sure? You're injured and the bed isn't very big."  
"Yes, I'm sure. _Come on_." 

Derek took off his shoes and padded back to the bed. 

It took a lot of wiggling around and Derek gingerly maneuvering Stiles for them to get properly installed. Since Stiles had to stay flat on his back, Derek was lying on his side, an arm under the pillow and the other around Stiles. He was also plastered against Stiles' side, not that it was a complaint. On the contrary. 

"We're... snuggling, aren't we?"  
"Go to sleep, Stiles."  
"That's what I thought. We're totally snuggling. Awesome."  
"Shut up," Derek said in a soft tone, kissing Stiles' temple. 

Stiles smelled like him, like Stiles, like both of them. Like Mate. Like home. 


End file.
